18 Seconds of Not Much 88
A trip over 5th Ave. on the monorail.
Note: Just a few short hours after I filmed this, the monorail broke down at Lenora St. They had firetrucks and the blue Monorail all helping out. I'm thinking that would have made a really cool grainy little movie.
18 Seconds of Not Much 71
John and Josh during a break at the Wednesday night Rivoli poker tournament.
18 Seconds of Not Much 34
The incredibly lame fountain part of the Chief Sealth statue, 5th & Denny.
The Best Revisited
OK, I know that nobody reads this blog. With something like 100,000 blogs being started up each day by people with a lot more to dish than I do, it's understandable. And I also know that Project 300 has been dead and buried for over two months now. But yesterday, I went through my best pieces (posted here), thinking that enough time has passed to make me more of a neutral observer. I have to say that I'm pretty surprised that most of the tunes really are kind of awesome. Gone are the minute-by-minute memories of how I built certain pieces and what I was trying to do at any certain juncture (as opposed to how things really turned out). I was more like a new listener to some of this stuff. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm very proud of a lot of these efforts. Sure, there are some spots that beg for revision, but considering how much time I had for each of them, it's pretty amazing that I ever wrote anything good.
Conversely, though, I listened to the worst selections (found here, if you dare) and they're still pretty bad. With that said, I'd like to add another tune to the Hall of Shame - #217. Out of everything I wrote, this is the only one that's completely impossible for humans to play. It sounds horrid and ridiculous, but it was beyond my meager powers to make it sound any better. Hang your head, #217!
I know that I'm dredging up history, but I'm listening to these pieces with new ears and I like what I hear - except for all of those bad selections. Like with Mackris v. O'Reilly, I'm not quite sure how it all got written. I guess maybe I retreated into my head far enough so that I could figure out a workable plan to get everything on paper. That might account for why I was so antisocial while I was in the thick of writing these pieces.
So to sum up: good pieces still good; bad pieces still bad; I don't know how I write music. Thank you and good night.
Conversely, though, I listened to the worst selections (found here, if you dare) and they're still pretty bad. With that said, I'd like to add another tune to the Hall of Shame - #217. Out of everything I wrote, this is the only one that's completely impossible for humans to play. It sounds horrid and ridiculous, but it was beyond my meager powers to make it sound any better. Hang your head, #217!
I know that I'm dredging up history, but I'm listening to these pieces with new ears and I like what I hear - except for all of those bad selections. Like with Mackris v. O'Reilly, I'm not quite sure how it all got written. I guess maybe I retreated into my head far enough so that I could figure out a workable plan to get everything on paper. That might account for why I was so antisocial while I was in the thick of writing these pieces.
So to sum up: good pieces still good; bad pieces still bad; I don't know how I write music. Thank you and good night.
Getting Good
Well, I'm still every bit up in the air about what to do next as I was a month ago. Here's the trouble: I need for the next project to to have some impact. OK, Mackris v. O'Reilly didn't have it and neither did writing 300 pieces for brass ensemble. The only two options I can come up with are 1. Write a hundred (or so) pieces for piano - a piece a day just until I get burned out again; or, 2. Write music for a new band, go out, get gigs and play all over town. Each choice has its drawbacks. If I write a hundred (or so) piano pieces, I will again be forcing myself to come up with something every single day. OK, that's actually a good thing. It was tremendously useful when I was in the thick of Project 300. But the thing is that I'll be spending all this time and exerting all this energy for not much of a result. Sure, writing music is quite a wonderful experience, but it should lead to being able to write more music, whether it's commissions or freebies to ensembles or whatnot. I'm willing to do that, but I'm not sure whether writing a bunch of piano pieces will make me any more visible than writing a whole bunch of brass pieces.
The band-thing is a little more perilous. First comes the music, then the guys for the band, then the gigs. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Well, not quite. I've had three past experiences that show that it's much more complicated than that. The first was a small quartet that I put together. It consisted of alto sax, tenor sax, guitar and bass. We weren't that good, but we had lots of gigs. We went through three alto sax players in total until we finally settled down to being a standards trio. They all left for various reasons and I got tired of looking for players who weren't terrible, so I had to concede that extra dimension of the music. Take my word for it, an extra horn in a group makes a huge difference. The main problem was that I couldn't promise big money and that our music wasn't terribly adventurous; it was just standards and originals arranged for two horns. Once we were a trio, I became frustrated that the guitarist and bass player weren't improving. I started playing with other guys (who were tons better) and we all sent our separate ways. The problem here was that in order to keep the better guys interested, I needed to keep the good-paying gigs coming, which I failed to do, since the desire for standards/originals bands has really fallen off in the last few years. Those better-playing guys are still around, but they've got their own projects that don't involve me.
Another unfortunate experience was when I formed up a sax quintet. It was my idea that I could arrange all these doo-wop tunes for quintet, make a demo and market us around town to places that featured music (as opposed to the bars and restaurants that hired the quartet/trio to hide in the corner and dispense ambiance). I worked for several months arranging tunes before I started making calls to sax players to gauge interest. I had arranged some 35 tunes by that time. Most players were too busy. The ones that could do it didn't seem that interested. All I wanted to do was for us to get together and play through the music to hear whether these arrangements were viable. Almost all of them were, but the interest level among the other guys in the band was extremely low. Each week, somebody else would quit and I'd have to call another ten sax players trying to get a replacement. Finally, when the bari sax player quit, I decided to pack it in. I don't really blame anybody for quitting. We didn't have any gigs, so what was the point? All that time I'd spent on the arrangements was pretty much squandered.
The last experience was brief but frustrating. In fact, the group didn't even get past the embryo stage. I resolved to form a band that would play pseudo-European cafe music a la the Black Cat Orchestra (only much smaller). I wrote several tunes (two of which made it into Project 300 as #63 & #64) and then embarked upon learning the clarinet. I even went out and bought a very nice old Martel. Hey, I could play saxophone just fine. How hard could it be? Well, it turned out to be damn near impossible. I don't know what's the matter with me. I could sound decent for 10-15 minutes, then everything would just go to hell. I'd squeak and honk and contemplate breaking the stupid thing over my knee in frustration. I tried and tried - and failed and failed. I got a soprano sax (an old Conn, of course) at the same time, thinking that it would be a worthy substitute for the hated clarinet, but it just didn't cut it. Its sound was a little too shrill and direct.
So those are my three cautionary band tales - all of them quite educational.
My latest Big Idea is along the lines of the second example. I'm thinking of starting a groove band (NOT smooth jazz - God no) made up of tenor sax, keyboards, bass and drums. There are several of these outfits around town and they seem to play out a lot. I know that the music has to come first. It'll take some time to write. I can convert about five tunes that I wrote for the quartet/trio, but I need to write a lot more than that - we're talking sets and sets of music, maybe 30 more tunes just to start. After that comes the band. I want these guys to be interested in the music. That's a pretty tall request, as I learned with the sax quintet. I still haven't figured out how to capture their attention, get them to rehearse the music and make space in their calendars for gigs, but I'm working on it. It's even more important that I like them. We don't have to be best pals, but it is really important that I respect them and like what they play. I mean, if they were ham-handed mouth-breathers, that wouldn't be too fun. With the music and the musicians in place, it might not be so tough to get gigs. This is my wishful and delusional side coming out. I realize that I'll have to do all the work - and I'm pretty bad at landing gigs. In the quartet/trio, the guitarist found us the overwhelming majority of our gigs. He was from Detroit and didn't take no for an answer. He was also not the greatest musician in the world, so it all evened out.
The reason why I'm so hesitant about this scenario is that it can all evaporate into nothing in exactly the same way the sax quintet did. I can spend all this time writing music and rounding up musicians only to have it all vanish for any kind of reason: lack of interest, other gigs, etc.
Having played at "Oo La La" with two excellent jazz musicians (whom I greatly envy because they have gigs), I realize that I have to get better. Sure, I'm happy that I was able to hold my own with these guys. We played dots off a page and did a little elementary improv. That doesn't prove much; only that I can meet the minimum requirements. It's been a long time since I've picked up the horn. I have to tell you, though, Josh sounded so incredibly good on my Conn alto that I've been playing it for a week. I haven't even opened up that horn's case in two years. Now I play it every day and it's quite a joy to wiggle around on. Over the next few weeks, I'll try to revive my skills on both alto and tenor. Hopefully, it won't lead to the vat of stagnation that I've been wallowing in since last November. I'm thinking that writing tunes for this new band might be exactly what my playing needs. They won't be swing numbers but rather funk/groove stuff that requires a different approach. That's what gets me excited about this prospect.
Here it the lovely, lovely Conn Chu Berry alto. Did I mention that it sounds really sweet?
But lurking out there in the grass is the possibility that it may come to nothing. The guys in the rest of the band will most likely be strangers to me and each other and therefore have nothing invested in this venture. I'm not a guy who has an extensive list of contacts, so that's very probable. And lastly, if I do get the tunes done and the band together, I can't guarantee that I'll find us anywhere to play. I wish I could, but I know my own nature. I'm a terrible self-promoter. At the same time, I know that if I don't make it happen, it won't happen. That's it right there.
It would be great if I was super-busy and playing lots and having an income from it, but first I have to get really good before I think I'm entitled to have that happen.
The band-thing is a little more perilous. First comes the music, then the guys for the band, then the gigs. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Well, not quite. I've had three past experiences that show that it's much more complicated than that. The first was a small quartet that I put together. It consisted of alto sax, tenor sax, guitar and bass. We weren't that good, but we had lots of gigs. We went through three alto sax players in total until we finally settled down to being a standards trio. They all left for various reasons and I got tired of looking for players who weren't terrible, so I had to concede that extra dimension of the music. Take my word for it, an extra horn in a group makes a huge difference. The main problem was that I couldn't promise big money and that our music wasn't terribly adventurous; it was just standards and originals arranged for two horns. Once we were a trio, I became frustrated that the guitarist and bass player weren't improving. I started playing with other guys (who were tons better) and we all sent our separate ways. The problem here was that in order to keep the better guys interested, I needed to keep the good-paying gigs coming, which I failed to do, since the desire for standards/originals bands has really fallen off in the last few years. Those better-playing guys are still around, but they've got their own projects that don't involve me.
Another unfortunate experience was when I formed up a sax quintet. It was my idea that I could arrange all these doo-wop tunes for quintet, make a demo and market us around town to places that featured music (as opposed to the bars and restaurants that hired the quartet/trio to hide in the corner and dispense ambiance). I worked for several months arranging tunes before I started making calls to sax players to gauge interest. I had arranged some 35 tunes by that time. Most players were too busy. The ones that could do it didn't seem that interested. All I wanted to do was for us to get together and play through the music to hear whether these arrangements were viable. Almost all of them were, but the interest level among the other guys in the band was extremely low. Each week, somebody else would quit and I'd have to call another ten sax players trying to get a replacement. Finally, when the bari sax player quit, I decided to pack it in. I don't really blame anybody for quitting. We didn't have any gigs, so what was the point? All that time I'd spent on the arrangements was pretty much squandered.
The last experience was brief but frustrating. In fact, the group didn't even get past the embryo stage. I resolved to form a band that would play pseudo-European cafe music a la the Black Cat Orchestra (only much smaller). I wrote several tunes (two of which made it into Project 300 as #63 & #64) and then embarked upon learning the clarinet. I even went out and bought a very nice old Martel. Hey, I could play saxophone just fine. How hard could it be? Well, it turned out to be damn near impossible. I don't know what's the matter with me. I could sound decent for 10-15 minutes, then everything would just go to hell. I'd squeak and honk and contemplate breaking the stupid thing over my knee in frustration. I tried and tried - and failed and failed. I got a soprano sax (an old Conn, of course) at the same time, thinking that it would be a worthy substitute for the hated clarinet, but it just didn't cut it. Its sound was a little too shrill and direct.
So those are my three cautionary band tales - all of them quite educational.
My latest Big Idea is along the lines of the second example. I'm thinking of starting a groove band (NOT smooth jazz - God no) made up of tenor sax, keyboards, bass and drums. There are several of these outfits around town and they seem to play out a lot. I know that the music has to come first. It'll take some time to write. I can convert about five tunes that I wrote for the quartet/trio, but I need to write a lot more than that - we're talking sets and sets of music, maybe 30 more tunes just to start. After that comes the band. I want these guys to be interested in the music. That's a pretty tall request, as I learned with the sax quintet. I still haven't figured out how to capture their attention, get them to rehearse the music and make space in their calendars for gigs, but I'm working on it. It's even more important that I like them. We don't have to be best pals, but it is really important that I respect them and like what they play. I mean, if they were ham-handed mouth-breathers, that wouldn't be too fun. With the music and the musicians in place, it might not be so tough to get gigs. This is my wishful and delusional side coming out. I realize that I'll have to do all the work - and I'm pretty bad at landing gigs. In the quartet/trio, the guitarist found us the overwhelming majority of our gigs. He was from Detroit and didn't take no for an answer. He was also not the greatest musician in the world, so it all evened out.
The reason why I'm so hesitant about this scenario is that it can all evaporate into nothing in exactly the same way the sax quintet did. I can spend all this time writing music and rounding up musicians only to have it all vanish for any kind of reason: lack of interest, other gigs, etc.
Having played at "Oo La La" with two excellent jazz musicians (whom I greatly envy because they have gigs), I realize that I have to get better. Sure, I'm happy that I was able to hold my own with these guys. We played dots off a page and did a little elementary improv. That doesn't prove much; only that I can meet the minimum requirements. It's been a long time since I've picked up the horn. I have to tell you, though, Josh sounded so incredibly good on my Conn alto that I've been playing it for a week. I haven't even opened up that horn's case in two years. Now I play it every day and it's quite a joy to wiggle around on. Over the next few weeks, I'll try to revive my skills on both alto and tenor. Hopefully, it won't lead to the vat of stagnation that I've been wallowing in since last November. I'm thinking that writing tunes for this new band might be exactly what my playing needs. They won't be swing numbers but rather funk/groove stuff that requires a different approach. That's what gets me excited about this prospect.
Here it the lovely, lovely Conn Chu Berry alto. Did I mention that it sounds really sweet?
But lurking out there in the grass is the possibility that it may come to nothing. The guys in the rest of the band will most likely be strangers to me and each other and therefore have nothing invested in this venture. I'm not a guy who has an extensive list of contacts, so that's very probable. And lastly, if I do get the tunes done and the band together, I can't guarantee that I'll find us anywhere to play. I wish I could, but I know my own nature. I'm a terrible self-promoter. At the same time, I know that if I don't make it happen, it won't happen. That's it right there.
It would be great if I was super-busy and playing lots and having an income from it, but first I have to get really good before I think I'm entitled to have that happen.
The Oo La La Experience
Since I got back from my jaunt south, I've been at loose ends as to what I'm going to do next. It's always the same question: big project or small project? Either way, I'm pretty sure that any effort will be less than successful. That's just the way I roll. So I'm sitting and wondering where to take it from here and I get a call from my cousin. She tells me that she's working as project manager on this crazy piece of performance art called "Oo La La." Purportedly, it's supposed to celebrate May Day and also give a nod to the first Thursday Art Walk in Pioneer Square. She goes on to describe exactly what's going to happen. The focal point of the action will be the Harbor Steps at 1st & University. The Steps are going to be done up like some 1920s ocean liner with fake posh tourists, fake housekeeping stuff, fake French waiters, fake deep-sea divers, people dressed as poodles, dancing chefs, and huge dancing cakes. In all, it would involve a cast of more than 150 (or so). The person who dreamed this all up is somebody named Lucia Neare. The project had hit a snag just two weeks from performance. They needed music for the dancing chefs and the cakes. After wracking her brain for possible musicians to contact, my cousin remembered me and asked me to lend some assistance with organizing the music. The main band that was going to play on the "cruise ship" on the Steps had already been contracted, but everything else was up in the air. Oh, and all musicians would have to dress up like bakers. I told her I'd think about it.
Initially, it sounded kind of ridiculous, but then I got to thinking. How many times does something this grand and strange happen in crummy old Seattle? As far as I could remember, never. That's really what warmed me up to the project. This wasn't just going to be a few mimes on a street corner, but around 150 people doing weird stuff. I really wanted to see it happen. I called her back with a few ideas. Originally, they wanted two ensembles to accompany the dancing bakers as they marched up from Occidental Square on the south edge of downtown. I had a few ideas. Since we were talking about the twenties, I thought it would be cool to organize a pair of saxophone quartets to play some twenties hot jazz for the bakers. My cousin thought it was a good idea and put me in touch with Lucia, the creator of the event. I told her about my big idea and she thought it would go over well. She was a very friendly and enthusiastic person - kind of the opposite of me - and set me to task. I stressed to her that since we would be looking for good musicians, we'd have to pay them relatively well. It was agreed that the fee would be $50 - a pretty paltry sum, but better than nothing. I didn't think it would be too tough to attract musicians - at least I thought it would be pretty easy to put together one quartet. My main concern was finding the music. I had no idea where to start. A secondary concern was that I hadn't played saxophone since early November. I hadn't touched or even thought about playing the horn for quite a while. Before I gave it up I had been in a huge rut for a long time. Setting it aside seemed to be the best way to forget about the problem. In addition, I was still shoulder-deep in Project 300 and that was sucking out my soul one piece at a time.
My first move was to call my sax repair guy. He was a very good player who had his own quartet. He also played a lot of music from the twenties in various other bands. The bad news was that he and his quartet were busy for the May Day performance, but he had some solid leads to where I could find music. He suggested the University of Washington Music Library and the Seattle Public Library. Honestly, those two options never occurred to me. I just thought there was some guy around town who lived with his mom and collected hundreds and thousands of old arrangements because he was, y'know, kind of weird. But no, that wasn't the case. Short story even shorter, I walked down to the library's main branch and after delving through what they call the KOMO Archives, I had six tunes for sax quartet. I settled on four fairly uncomplicated numbers. Golly, that hadn't taken any time at all! All the charts were from the twenties, and by my estimation, probably hadn't been heard by human ears in 75 years or more.
The next step in this very smoothly-unfolding plan was to find the musicians. I needed seven more sax players (2 sopranos, 2 altos, 1 tenor (I'd be playing the other tenor) and 2 baritones) to join me in this wacky project. In a few days, I put out some fliers at Cornish and the University of Washington. No response. I reported back to my cousin who upped the money (to $75) and wished me the best. I put an ad on Craigslist. Within a few hours, I was getting responses. That was really encouraging and I had two guys good to go - one on soprano, the other on alto. I also stopped by the Musicians Union to see what they could do for me. It turns out that a guy I've played with in the past works there. We got caught up and I pitched my project. I gave him all the details. He told me that the money was a little low for union guys but he'd run my request past the board of directors and hopefully send it out that afternoon. Before I left, he encouraged me to join the union. I promised to give it some serious thought. He was a good guy and I never doubted his sincerity when he talked about how good the union was.
I heard nothing from him the next day. Finally, the day after that, I get this letter in the mail from the union. I can only describe it as a nasty-gram. I won't get into the details, but basically, it accused me of being cheap and disrespectful toward musicians. I would have been perfectly OK with something that told me I wasn't paying enough. That was fine. What I didn't need was a lecture on the way the brave union functioned and how I was ruining life for more than 500 local musicians with my low-ball offer. I really felt that these guys had crossed the line. I mean, who the hell did they think they were? I was just this guy looking for some sax players to help my cousin put on a weird show. I didn't need this. Who were they to pass judgment on me? I felt compelled to call them and let them know that they weren't winning any friends with their righteousness. I talked first with my former bandmate. He was very apologetic and a little chagrined that I'd gotten that bitch-slap of a letter. He transferred me to the guy who actually penned it. OK, he was a jerk. He told me that he was only fulfilling the wishes of over 500 of their members. I asked him whether their members thought I was cheap and disrespectful. He said that he wasn't speaking of me specifically, but rather the production staff of "Oo La La," about whom he knew nothing. Funny thing, I told him, since his little letter was addressed to me, I got the distinct impression that all the cheapness and lack of respect mentioned in its contents were aimed at me. We went around and around for a while. He was, as I mentioned, a jerk and couldn't see any merit in what I was saying. He repeatedly referred back to the desires of the union members as the basis of his being a jerk about this whole thing. There was nothing else I could say. What point can you make to somebody who is such an utter tool?
I came away from this little confrontation vowing that I would never, ever join the friggin' union. Not only that, but in the future, I don't even want to play alongside anybody from the union. That's the way I feel about it. I know that unions do tons of good in this world. They are crucial organizations in many trades. But this particular one is so pathetic and inept that they take to insulting those who are actually considering joining. And they were defiantly unapologetic about it. OK, so why would I want to join an organization that's run by a bunch of dicks?
Please pardon that digression. That little event totally steamed me. I had bigger problems to worry about. The two people I'd found via Craigslist remained at two for a number of days. I tried to find a bari sax player through old jazz contacts. At about the same time that I found one, the guy who was playing soprano quit. He conjured up a few lame excuses and hoped that I was cool with it. I was not. Here's the deal: if you say yes to the gig, you're on the gig. If circumstances make it so you can't make it to the gig, you find a substitute. If you can't honor either of those things, I don't want you on this or any gig until the end of time. Professionals are professionals for several reasons: they're good and they're reliable. This gig didn't exactly demand that the players be super-good (the music wasn't all that tough), but it did ask for some reliability. I'm no professional, but when it comes to playing, I'm very, very reliable. Some people don't understand that showing up is really important, too. This erstwhile soprano player thought it would be OK because he'd committed himself only 24 hours beforehand. Well, I wasn't OK with it. I think what really happened is that after I gave him the music, he probably went home, tried it out and it kicked his ass. That's the way I figure it. Yeah, it wasn't that difficult, but it was too difficult for him. At the end of our conversation, he said that if I ever needed a sax player again, he was willing. I told him not a chance. If he quits this gig, he can just as easily quit anything else that I offer. One strike and you're out, pal.
Another concern was that I hadn't touched my horn in almost six months. I wasn't the strongest reader to begin with, so yeah, I was pretty worried that I'd sound horrible. After I found the music at the library, I got right on it. All my apprehensions were confirmed when I played through it the first time. I couldn't read worth beans and I sounded dismal. As the days passed, those things began to take care of themselves. With lots of repetition, the music started to flow from page to fingers much easier and my sound improved dramatically. By the time I realized that my playing was becoming functional, it appeared doubtful that we would ever have more than three guys in the quartet. Even though the money for the gig had increased another $25, I didn't think I could find another player. Time was short and I had pretty much exhausted all of my options. If we had to, we could play as a rather thin-sounding trio. Luckily, it didn't come to that.
Thanks to Chris, the bari player, I got a lot of guys to call. At the end of a lot of calls, I found Josh, who was really a tenor player. He was such a tenor player that he didn't have an alto. I happened to have two old Conn altos gathering dust on my shelf. I offered to loan him one. He came over and picked it and the music up on Monday night. There were three days to performance. I finally got to call my cousin with the good news. I had been stalling for almost a week. She told me that plans had changed; we would now be accompanying the dancing cakes. That was fine. She also told me that she was pretty impressed with my competence. That was even finer. Hey, thanks, cuz!
So the quartet was in place. We had Erling on soprano. He was an older classical clarinet player who had just given a very lengthy recital. If he had good classical chops, then he'd have no problem reading the music down. Chris and Josh were both professional jazz guys in real bands and everything. And then there was me.
Since I expected lots of results from Craigslist, I initially wanted to have a lot of rehearsals. You never know what you're going to get on Craigslist, so in case I got some poor readers (poorer than me, that is), we'd have a cushion of time to get things ship-shape. With these guys, that didn't seem necessary. They were good and I had complete faith in them. I prayed that none of them would quit in the few days before the performance.
Our first rehearsal was the day before the gig. It was at my formerly squalid apartment. (I've been doing a lot of cleaning since I got back from my road trip.) From there we needed to go down to the dress rehearsal. We went over the tunes for about an hour. They were pretty rough, but almost good enough to pass muster. Everybody played reasonably well, even me. We went down to the dress rehearsal at the art museum, played a tune for the entrance of the cakes and their descent down the stairs. We actually sounded great there in the echo chamber of the museum. Following that we were hustled down to the Harbor Steps across the street and told to wait for further instructions. Fifteen minutes became half an hour, which became 45 minutes. The weather turned cold and pretty nasty. The last week had been cold and dreary. Any continuation of that would put a pretty ironic ending on the event. Here we were celebrating spring and May Day and whatnot and the weather was making it seem like February.
The dress rehearsal turned out to be something of a bust. Both Chris and Josh had to go do things at about the time that everybody was really-truly-honest-to-gosh supposed to start rehearsing. I told one of the stage managers that and they let us go home. Golly, that was easy. Everyone else was to stay till eight o'clock in the evening and beyond. Me, I got home in time to get in on my building's weekly poker game. I ended up winning $40. That was sweet!
The next day, Thursday, May Day, was the rehearsal. I took it easy during the day, knowing that I'd be lugging around my tenor on a circuitous route through downtown Seattle dressed as a baker. The weather actually looked like it would cooperate. I got to the Art Museum early, found two of the quartet and started worrying about the last guy. Time passed and he was nowhere to be found. Josh and Chris went off for a drink down the street and I started worrying more. There was nothing for me to do but hang out by the museum's entrance and hope for Erling to show up. They told me to assemble the guys, get into some baker gear and start playing. Once Josh, Chris and I were in the museum, I heard Erling warming up. He had actually been there longer than I had. I was relieved.
We quickly got into our baker costumes - white tunic, apron and hat - broke out our horns and rushed up to our places at the top of the museum's stairs. The baker's hats took quite some time to figure out, so we delayed everything by about five minutes. Once we got lined up, the ten-foot-tall cakes appeared and we played their entrance music. We didn't sound so good, but we got the job done. From there, we followed them around downtown, stopping to play tunes on various street corners on the way up to Westlake. We sounded good. People loved us. It was a very cool thing to experience. Dozens of people were taking pictures and asking what the hell was going on. Even more just gaped at us as we passed by. All kinds of weirdos were following us around, strangely drawn to our odd little procession. Everywhere we went, people seemed very happy, if not slightly puzzled, to see us. Yeah, five large cakes being followed around by four bakers playing saxophones is not an everyday sight. Part of the point of the project was to get a reaction from people along the way. Not only did we get one, but it was overwhelmingly positive. It was really a joy to be a part of this weird spectacle.
The big dance number took place at Westlake Square. The cakes danced in the way showgirls dance in Vegas; the costumes were so big and bulky that they could only walk around more or less to the beat of the music. We had our problems playing the tune - somebody missed a repeat and we were thrown into chaos - but we got through it. Hey, at certain points, we sounded really great. Equally as gratifying was that I was able to hold my own against guys who were a lot better than me. I still had a long way to go until I could regain my former powers, but it was great to not be the slowest wheel on the cart.
After the Westlake dance, we took a break, then made our way back down to the Harbor Steps. At the corner of 2nd & University, we met up with the dancing bakers and their marching band, which was about ten strong and made up of mostly brass. A block down on 1st, we joined with yet another band like the first one. Everybody played a few numbers and then joined the main orchestra on the Steps for the grand finale. The place was absolutely packed. It was chaotic but fun. And then it was over. Everybody went to the after-party at the Art Museum, had a few drinks and went home. It had been a very memorable evening.
I was never really clear what cakes and bakers had to do with a twenties-style cruise ship and all of its accouterments, but it really wasn't important. The main point was to do something wild (and yes, fairly whimsical) and not look foolish doing it. I think the production really pulled that off in a big way. Being just one small part of the whole made it worth all the petty setbacks that I encountered along the way.
The next day, I looked for any mention of the piece in the local papers. Since there were so many photographers and video cameras around, I thought there would be fairly extensive coverage. No such luck, apparently. I wasn't able to find any mention of it in either of the big local papers. What's the deal with that? Well, I guess that's just Seattle. But honestly, this town needs more pieces like this. Such things change dreary day-to-day scenery into backdrops for new experiences. They also draw people out of themselves. Seattle residents, for the most part, are quite withdrawn and distant most of the year - especially this year; the weather has been just awful. I wouldn't go so far as to say that these interactive performance pieces will change the way people think about life and art, but at least they can at their city as not as stodgy and reserved as they once thought. I'll say it again: Seattle needs more pieces like this.
The Oo La La Sax Quartet: I'm the guy who looks like he doesn't have a neck. It's a bad photo, but the only one I have.
I've Been Away
Don't worry. Even though nobody reads this blog, I haven't given up on it. I'm just taking a break. Project 300 really burned me out, so my solution was to take a lengthy road trip. I drove to Alabama, then turned back. The original plan was to go to Savannah, Georgia. Next trip, maybe.
I'm still trying to figure out how to follow up Project 300. I thought that some kind of general concept would hit me somewhere in west Texas or in the Mississippi panhandle. I was wrong. I'll come up with something. Before I left, the last thing I wanted to do was write another piece of music. Here we are a month later and I'm really looking forward to it. I only need to determine what kind of music I need to write and how much of it needs to get done before I can declare victory.
Until then, I'll leave you with a few of my dandy cell phone videos.
This is a sand shark at the New Orleans Aquarium (pardon the noise; the place was absolutely packed).
I took a swamp tour in Houma, Louisiana and we got to feed alligators. This one is only about four feet long. All the huge alligators had other engagements that day.
This is just a view of the cypress swamp off the back of the boat. The guy doing all the shouting is the guide. He was calling alligators.
I'll post again soon.
I'm still trying to figure out how to follow up Project 300. I thought that some kind of general concept would hit me somewhere in west Texas or in the Mississippi panhandle. I was wrong. I'll come up with something. Before I left, the last thing I wanted to do was write another piece of music. Here we are a month later and I'm really looking forward to it. I only need to determine what kind of music I need to write and how much of it needs to get done before I can declare victory.
Until then, I'll leave you with a few of my dandy cell phone videos.
This is a sand shark at the New Orleans Aquarium (pardon the noise; the place was absolutely packed).
I took a swamp tour in Houma, Louisiana and we got to feed alligators. This one is only about four feet long. All the huge alligators had other engagements that day.
This is just a view of the cypress swamp off the back of the boat. The guy doing all the shouting is the guide. He was calling alligators.
I'll post again soon.
Project 300: 4/19/07-3/6/08
It's done. It almost drove me completely nuts, but it doesn't matter now. In 323 days, I managed to write 301 pieces whose total running time clocks in somewhere between 12 and 13 hours. I'm very pleased with some of the results (see: The Best) and disappointed and embarrassed by others (see: The Worst), but I'm overjoyed that even at my darkest hour, I didn't give up. Sure, I thought about it lots of times, but there was something that always urged me to keep going. Besides, what else was I going to do? I mean, I'm just this impoverished, unemployed guy who lives in the scummiest part of Belltown and hopes that he can someday make a living writing music. There wasn't anything else for me to do but write music in this drafty, cluttered apartment. Although being a professional composer might not come to pass, it's comforting to know that I have the chops to do it, should the opportunity present itself.
It's been a few days since I finished #300, and as sick as I was of the project, I'm anxious to embark on something new. I don't know what that might be. I think I might "stay small" and write some daily piano pieces - not 300 of them, but enough to total a few hours worth of music. I'll have time to decide that in the coming weeks. I'll be taking off soon to drive across the country. Hopefully, by the time I return, I will once again be hearing that dull roar between my ears that will eventually become my next set of pieces.
I realize that nobody reads this blog or listens to my pieces, but that doesn't diminish the joy I feel at having concluded this massive venture.
It's been a few days since I finished #300, and as sick as I was of the project, I'm anxious to embark on something new. I don't know what that might be. I think I might "stay small" and write some daily piano pieces - not 300 of them, but enough to total a few hours worth of music. I'll have time to decide that in the coming weeks. I'll be taking off soon to drive across the country. Hopefully, by the time I return, I will once again be hearing that dull roar between my ears that will eventually become my next set of pieces.
I realize that nobody reads this blog or listens to my pieces, but that doesn't diminish the joy I feel at having concluded this massive venture.
The Best
I originally wanted to list this project's "top 10%," but thinking back on all these pieces, I think there will be a lot more than 30, so I'll just pick however many I want. I mean, there's a lot of good music here. And even the pieces that aren't listed below have their moments. Here goes:
#7 - I've said it many times before: this piece started it all. After I finished it, everything changed.
#8 - Simple in form, effective in delivery and very nice to listen to.
#12 - This piece came from nowhere and ended up being one of the project's best.
#15 - I don't know what compelled me to write this driving galop, but I'm glad I did.
#18 - This is a sunny, groovy and short little odd-meter piece that always cheers me up when I'm feeling creatively bankrupt.
#19 - How are you supposed to write a funky march without percussion? Like this!
#31 - My first proper march; it paves the way for many fine efforts in the future.
#33 - A faux-Balkan romp, complete with a nasty-sounding trumpet and crazy alternating meters.
#40 - Although the trombone part is totally impractical, this is a really nice little odd-meter doo-wop evocation.
#41 - Another very fine march. This one is in minor key.
#44 - How do you make 4/4 sound weird? Subdivide it and make a piece out of it.
#46 - It's my accidental Herb Alpert creation!
#48 - Here's a nice massive dirge-like piece.
#61 - This tune just happened, and in a very good way.
#64 - Here's a fun little polka that kind of rocks.
#74 - This march might well be the best piece of the project. I won't declare it the winner, but it's a serious contender.
#77 - A proto-jazz cakewalk that packs a lot of charm.
#79 - The first try for this piece (#78) was something of a disaster. This version is most improved reworking that I've done.
#82 - A trombone-centric galop that totally stomps.
#87 - This may also be the best tune of the project so far: it's just your regular weird, tonally-unstable surf tune.
#99 - I channel Prokofiev in this march. I worked so hard on it that it's no wonder that #100 sucks so bad.
#102 - This piece is very tense and occasionally lyrical. It also kicks ass in a very slow way.
#109 - On the surface, this piece seems quite ordinary, but I've grown very fond of it.
#118 - Another example of what happens when you don't have any workable ideas and just start writing. Sometimes amazing things happen. This is one of those pieces.
#122 - A lovely trombone-lead tune that highlights both major and minor sevenths.
#123 - A cool ska tune with the trombone once again in the lead.
#131 - This is a real pleasing jazz waltz that almost sounds like it has real changes.
#133 - Although the main theme of these variations (#132) is kind of a bust, this is one of the best pieces I've written in a long time. It builds until we hear three separate lines going on at the same time. I was as surprised as anyone that they work so well together.
#139 - This is the best of my Gabrieli-like pieces. The others are #116, #117 and #145. They're not as good.
#150 - This is a slick, alternate-harmony march that celebrates the project's halfway point.
#156 - I didn't write enough wild polkas, but I made up for it by making the few that I wrote very wild.
#162 - I wanted to write something that sounded like the soundtrack to a reasonably good adventure movie and here it is. This also ranks among my very, very best pieces.
#165 - One more piece that came from nowhere and manages to sound really good.
#178 - I wrote this as a requiem for a goldfish named Leon. I still miss that little guy.
#190 - My marches are getting weirder and I really like it.
#195 - Yeah, those marches are getting so weird that they barely resemble marches.
#196 - A very humane approach to 12-tone music.
#202 - Small-band semi-minimalism that works really well.
#207 - The best jig I've ever written. It's also the only jig I've ever written. Still, it kicks serious ass.
#214 - If you write lots of grace notes, expect great things to happen.
#228 - Here's a a pretty intense canon that, unlike many other canons and fugues that I've written, manages to hold its shit together for the duration.
#231 - This is a reall swell tune that has a melody in 4 and an accompaniment in 5.
#242 - The best galop in the bunch. This piece seriously wails.
#247 - This is one of the weird pieces I've written - a sort of hoe-down/neo-romantic Slavic dance combination. Somehow, it ends up sounding pretty super-fine.
#254 - Once again, it's not a march, but it's definitely not a polka. It does, however, sound pretty crazy.
#264 - This effort represents the best of all those musical palindromes of the late-250s and early-260s.
#274 - All echoes, all the time; very trippy stuff.
#284 - Big, glacial music.
#288 - One last swipe at the march. This is among the best. How did that happen??
#289 - At last, a successful neo-renaissance piece! Hallelujah!
#294 - Although this is based on #285, this is a far better example of big-band minimalism than its source material.
#7 - I've said it many times before: this piece started it all. After I finished it, everything changed.
#8 - Simple in form, effective in delivery and very nice to listen to.
#12 - This piece came from nowhere and ended up being one of the project's best.
#15 - I don't know what compelled me to write this driving galop, but I'm glad I did.
#18 - This is a sunny, groovy and short little odd-meter piece that always cheers me up when I'm feeling creatively bankrupt.
#19 - How are you supposed to write a funky march without percussion? Like this!
#31 - My first proper march; it paves the way for many fine efforts in the future.
#33 - A faux-Balkan romp, complete with a nasty-sounding trumpet and crazy alternating meters.
#40 - Although the trombone part is totally impractical, this is a really nice little odd-meter doo-wop evocation.
#41 - Another very fine march. This one is in minor key.
#44 - How do you make 4/4 sound weird? Subdivide it and make a piece out of it.
#46 - It's my accidental Herb Alpert creation!
#48 - Here's a nice massive dirge-like piece.
#61 - This tune just happened, and in a very good way.
#64 - Here's a fun little polka that kind of rocks.
#74 - This march might well be the best piece of the project. I won't declare it the winner, but it's a serious contender.
#77 - A proto-jazz cakewalk that packs a lot of charm.
#79 - The first try for this piece (#78) was something of a disaster. This version is most improved reworking that I've done.
#82 - A trombone-centric galop that totally stomps.
#87 - This may also be the best tune of the project so far: it's just your regular weird, tonally-unstable surf tune.
#99 - I channel Prokofiev in this march. I worked so hard on it that it's no wonder that #100 sucks so bad.
#102 - This piece is very tense and occasionally lyrical. It also kicks ass in a very slow way.
#109 - On the surface, this piece seems quite ordinary, but I've grown very fond of it.
#118 - Another example of what happens when you don't have any workable ideas and just start writing. Sometimes amazing things happen. This is one of those pieces.
#122 - A lovely trombone-lead tune that highlights both major and minor sevenths.
#123 - A cool ska tune with the trombone once again in the lead.
#131 - This is a real pleasing jazz waltz that almost sounds like it has real changes.
#133 - Although the main theme of these variations (#132) is kind of a bust, this is one of the best pieces I've written in a long time. It builds until we hear three separate lines going on at the same time. I was as surprised as anyone that they work so well together.
#139 - This is the best of my Gabrieli-like pieces. The others are #116, #117 and #145. They're not as good.
#150 - This is a slick, alternate-harmony march that celebrates the project's halfway point.
#156 - I didn't write enough wild polkas, but I made up for it by making the few that I wrote very wild.
#162 - I wanted to write something that sounded like the soundtrack to a reasonably good adventure movie and here it is. This also ranks among my very, very best pieces.
#165 - One more piece that came from nowhere and manages to sound really good.
#178 - I wrote this as a requiem for a goldfish named Leon. I still miss that little guy.
#190 - My marches are getting weirder and I really like it.
#195 - Yeah, those marches are getting so weird that they barely resemble marches.
#196 - A very humane approach to 12-tone music.
#202 - Small-band semi-minimalism that works really well.
#207 - The best jig I've ever written. It's also the only jig I've ever written. Still, it kicks serious ass.
#214 - If you write lots of grace notes, expect great things to happen.
#228 - Here's a a pretty intense canon that, unlike many other canons and fugues that I've written, manages to hold its shit together for the duration.
#231 - This is a reall swell tune that has a melody in 4 and an accompaniment in 5.
#242 - The best galop in the bunch. This piece seriously wails.
#247 - This is one of the weird pieces I've written - a sort of hoe-down/neo-romantic Slavic dance combination. Somehow, it ends up sounding pretty super-fine.
#254 - Once again, it's not a march, but it's definitely not a polka. It does, however, sound pretty crazy.
#264 - This effort represents the best of all those musical palindromes of the late-250s and early-260s.
#274 - All echoes, all the time; very trippy stuff.
#284 - Big, glacial music.
#288 - One last swipe at the march. This is among the best. How did that happen??
#289 - At last, a successful neo-renaissance piece! Hallelujah!
#294 - Although this is based on #285, this is a far better example of big-band minimalism than its source material.
The Worst
Well, I wish that each of these pieces was an instant classic, but there are a few prominent dogs among these 300 - actually 301 - tunes. Here they are and why:
#2 - Big and pointless. I was still a little iffy as to what I should do with all that brass.
#17 - This was my first attempt to write something big and ugly - and it shows. Later attempts were far more skilled.
#93 - I knew this was bad when I wrote it, but was helpless to improve it. This tune was detemined to stink, so who am I to deny its destiny?
#100 - This was supposed to be the spirited, minor-key fanfare for the next 100 pieces and beyond, but it turned out to be probably the worst piece of this entire project. That's all!
#132 - After writing just a few of the 11 sets of variations, I realized that this main theme isn't very good. Fortunately, I was able to derive some very good variations from it, despite its lack of quality.
#257 - This is a really unsuccessful tango.
#286 - After writing a lot of good stuff for a long time, everything that has guided me through this project so far suddenly went on vacation. This piece took me two whole days to finish and it lacks even the rudiments of skill and charm.
#2 - Big and pointless. I was still a little iffy as to what I should do with all that brass.
#17 - This was my first attempt to write something big and ugly - and it shows. Later attempts were far more skilled.
#93 - I knew this was bad when I wrote it, but was helpless to improve it. This tune was detemined to stink, so who am I to deny its destiny?
#100 - This was supposed to be the spirited, minor-key fanfare for the next 100 pieces and beyond, but it turned out to be probably the worst piece of this entire project. That's all!
#132 - After writing just a few of the 11 sets of variations, I realized that this main theme isn't very good. Fortunately, I was able to derive some very good variations from it, despite its lack of quality.
#257 - This is a really unsuccessful tango.
#286 - After writing a lot of good stuff for a long time, everything that has guided me through this project so far suddenly went on vacation. This piece took me two whole days to finish and it lacks even the rudiments of skill and charm.
One Day Wonder #300
For 3 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba and timpani.
Here we are at the end of the line - #300, which is really a revamped version of #1. And yes, I realize that this is the 301st piece in my projected series of 300. OK, so this treatment isn’t two minutes long. Big deal! It’s a great improvement over the original. For one thing, I shrink the size of the band by three. Gone are the bass trumpet, 4th horn and 3rd trombone. I didn’t need those guys the first time around but was too dumb and inexperienced to know. I still wanted to keep the timpani. I haven’t used a non-brass instrument since then, so it seemed appropriate to have it at the conclusion of the project. Since the main motif (you can’t really call it a melody) is this full-bore blast of A minor, I figured I’d build into it with something out front. This worked out well. I also extended the main motif by a few bars and let the trumpets loose every so often and reworked the ending a bit. This also works out well. See, back when I started the project, I was just thinking that I’d write big fanfares that would serve a purpose at some later date. In other words, they didn’t necessarily have to be good, they just had to have possibilities. That attitude quickly changed because writing one big fanfare after the other seemed kind of limited and dull. In addition, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with all these instruments. So soon after beginning, I went small with #3 and started moving away from the fanfare at #7. Here’s a curious fact: #1 is the largest ensemble pieces (14 parts) in this body of work. Only #284, at 13 parts, comes close. Bigger is not always better. I quickly found that out. I also quickly discovered how versatile and subtle brass instruments can be. Sometimes, raw power isn’t the answer, but sometimes it is. And once again, I reaffirmed my belief that once you’re completely out of ideas, that’s when the real music begins.
Here we are at the end of the line - #300, which is really a revamped version of #1. And yes, I realize that this is the 301st piece in my projected series of 300. OK, so this treatment isn’t two minutes long. Big deal! It’s a great improvement over the original. For one thing, I shrink the size of the band by three. Gone are the bass trumpet, 4th horn and 3rd trombone. I didn’t need those guys the first time around but was too dumb and inexperienced to know. I still wanted to keep the timpani. I haven’t used a non-brass instrument since then, so it seemed appropriate to have it at the conclusion of the project. Since the main motif (you can’t really call it a melody) is this full-bore blast of A minor, I figured I’d build into it with something out front. This worked out well. I also extended the main motif by a few bars and let the trumpets loose every so often and reworked the ending a bit. This also works out well. See, back when I started the project, I was just thinking that I’d write big fanfares that would serve a purpose at some later date. In other words, they didn’t necessarily have to be good, they just had to have possibilities. That attitude quickly changed because writing one big fanfare after the other seemed kind of limited and dull. In addition, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with all these instruments. So soon after beginning, I went small with #3 and started moving away from the fanfare at #7. Here’s a curious fact: #1 is the largest ensemble pieces (14 parts) in this body of work. Only #284, at 13 parts, comes close. Bigger is not always better. I quickly found that out. I also quickly discovered how versatile and subtle brass instruments can be. Sometimes, raw power isn’t the answer, but sometimes it is. And once again, I reaffirmed my belief that once you’re completely out of ideas, that’s when the real music begins.
One Day Wonder #299
For 4 trumpets, 4 trombones and tuba.
This is the new version of #2. It’s been months and months since I listened to the original, and let me just say, wow, anything would be an improvement. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. OK, sure, it was written during a phase when I was just throwing all assorted stuff against a wall to see what would stick. This piece not only didn’t stick, it ricocheted off the wall and rolled under the couch. Although it starts off nicely enough, it simply doesn’t go anywhere for its entire minute-plus duration. All I can recall about its creation is that I was rather confused about how to handle the disposition of forces. Sure, I’d written for brass before and I’d done a good job, but now I had all these instruments and what, oh, what, was I going to do with them?? Where did they belong and where should they go once I figured out where they belonged? That accounts for a lot of things not happening in this piece. The new version is better, but it’s strange that when I encounter these old tunes, I instantly recall my frame of mind and sometimes even the vast experience I’ve gained from all the previous pieces isn’t much use. I’m still the confused-yet-grimly-determined guy throwing things against the wall. What I did here was to write up an intro that is completely at odds with the rest of the piece, run the main part of the fanfare-like tune more or less as-is, scrap the entire second half of the original (the trumpets ascend into the ionosphere, because I felt that there was nowhere else for them to go) and present a series of adventures and less dense textures as a contrast. Yeah, this is a much better way to present it, but I’m still not completely satisfied with it. But hey, I’m one piece away from being finished, so it’s not that I don’t care, but rather that I can only care a limited amount. And prying beauty and power out of this piece’s very humble origins exceeds that limited amount.
This is the new version of #2. It’s been months and months since I listened to the original, and let me just say, wow, anything would be an improvement. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. OK, sure, it was written during a phase when I was just throwing all assorted stuff against a wall to see what would stick. This piece not only didn’t stick, it ricocheted off the wall and rolled under the couch. Although it starts off nicely enough, it simply doesn’t go anywhere for its entire minute-plus duration. All I can recall about its creation is that I was rather confused about how to handle the disposition of forces. Sure, I’d written for brass before and I’d done a good job, but now I had all these instruments and what, oh, what, was I going to do with them?? Where did they belong and where should they go once I figured out where they belonged? That accounts for a lot of things not happening in this piece. The new version is better, but it’s strange that when I encounter these old tunes, I instantly recall my frame of mind and sometimes even the vast experience I’ve gained from all the previous pieces isn’t much use. I’m still the confused-yet-grimly-determined guy throwing things against the wall. What I did here was to write up an intro that is completely at odds with the rest of the piece, run the main part of the fanfare-like tune more or less as-is, scrap the entire second half of the original (the trumpets ascend into the ionosphere, because I felt that there was nowhere else for them to go) and present a series of adventures and less dense textures as a contrast. Yeah, this is a much better way to present it, but I’m still not completely satisfied with it. But hey, I’m one piece away from being finished, so it’s not that I don’t care, but rather that I can only care a limited amount. And prying beauty and power out of this piece’s very humble origins exceeds that limited amount.
One Day Wonder #298
For 1 horn, 1 trumpet, 1 trombone and tuba.
Today’s reconstitution efforts focus on #3. The original is a nice little fanfare-esque interchange between trumpet and horn. Yeah, it’s nice, but it needed something extra. I figured I could get more mileage out of it if I brought in a trombone and tuba. This changes everything. The feel becomes less fanfare and more oom-pah, which is what I wanted. I’m always interested in altering any given feel while preserving the original tune. I added a B theme in the horn, which doesn’t have much feel at all and then repeated previous material with additional different feels. Even though much of the music is the same, this really is a completely different piece. That’s about the best I can describe it, which is wholly insufficient. You know, I’ll be glad to finish this project for a variety of reason, most prominent of which is that I don’t have to write any more descriptions of my music. I often fail to capture my frame of mind or my prevailing environmental conditions when I’m writing this music. For instance, I lot of the time, people are screaming at each other under my window or all kinds of fire trucks pull up to attend to my crazy (yeah, they’re all nuts) or sometimes Belltown smells funny; today it smelled like a wet dog for no apparent reason. All these things are fun to write about – and let’s face it, blogs are for stuff like frame of mind and environment – but it’s difficult to write about music. Critiquing a performance is much easier, but when considering just music, it’s much, much tougher. I generally don’t write about a piece on the day it was written because I might spend the next few days adding or subtracting things. But I often find that those few days are time enough for me to forget just about every process that went into the piece, so I can only be vague about what goes on. I actually have written about a piece on the day I wrote it, but even then I can’t discuss details. I guess that must be because the thinking that I use in creating a piece is completely divorced from how I would describe it. It’s not easy to describe what goes on in music with words. And that’s all I have to say about it. So please enjoy this update of a very early One Day Wonder.
Today’s reconstitution efforts focus on #3. The original is a nice little fanfare-esque interchange between trumpet and horn. Yeah, it’s nice, but it needed something extra. I figured I could get more mileage out of it if I brought in a trombone and tuba. This changes everything. The feel becomes less fanfare and more oom-pah, which is what I wanted. I’m always interested in altering any given feel while preserving the original tune. I added a B theme in the horn, which doesn’t have much feel at all and then repeated previous material with additional different feels. Even though much of the music is the same, this really is a completely different piece. That’s about the best I can describe it, which is wholly insufficient. You know, I’ll be glad to finish this project for a variety of reason, most prominent of which is that I don’t have to write any more descriptions of my music. I often fail to capture my frame of mind or my prevailing environmental conditions when I’m writing this music. For instance, I lot of the time, people are screaming at each other under my window or all kinds of fire trucks pull up to attend to my crazy (yeah, they’re all nuts) or sometimes Belltown smells funny; today it smelled like a wet dog for no apparent reason. All these things are fun to write about – and let’s face it, blogs are for stuff like frame of mind and environment – but it’s difficult to write about music. Critiquing a performance is much easier, but when considering just music, it’s much, much tougher. I generally don’t write about a piece on the day it was written because I might spend the next few days adding or subtracting things. But I often find that those few days are time enough for me to forget just about every process that went into the piece, so I can only be vague about what goes on. I actually have written about a piece on the day I wrote it, but even then I can’t discuss details. I guess that must be because the thinking that I use in creating a piece is completely divorced from how I would describe it. It’s not easy to describe what goes on in music with words. And that’s all I have to say about it. So please enjoy this update of a very early One Day Wonder.
One Day Wonder #297
For 3 trumpets.
Here we take on #4, the shortest of all pieces at just 26 seconds. The most recent all-trumpet piece of mine is #283, which is drastically different from this one. What I wanted here was to hold true (for the most part) with my original conception of close harmony counterpoint with allusions to fanfare. Back in the day, everything was supposed to be a fanfare. That’s just what happens here. At some points, the harmony does get a little crunchy, but it’s nothing in comparison to #283, which is all crunch. Other than that, there isn’t a whole lot to say about what goes on, other than this expansion worked a lot better than #296. And that’s a fact.
Here we take on #4, the shortest of all pieces at just 26 seconds. The most recent all-trumpet piece of mine is #283, which is drastically different from this one. What I wanted here was to hold true (for the most part) with my original conception of close harmony counterpoint with allusions to fanfare. Back in the day, everything was supposed to be a fanfare. That’s just what happens here. At some points, the harmony does get a little crunchy, but it’s nothing in comparison to #283, which is all crunch. Other than that, there isn’t a whole lot to say about what goes on, other than this expansion worked a lot better than #296. And that’s a fact.
One Day Wonder #296
For 1 horn, 1 trumpet and 3 trombones.
This is the updated version of #5. The original is around 45 seconds long. Out of the first six pieces, this is the one that least required updating. Sure, it’s only 45 seconds, but it does a good job in expressing a complete musical thought in a short amount of time. OK, the trumpet goes into the stratosphere for a few notes; the highest being a B. This is because I wasn’t particularly attuned to practical aspects of any given instrument at the time. For me, this project was just a series of exercises that I thought that I would abandon after a few dozen attempts. Yeah, I was kind of wrong. So I turn back to #5 with more practical considerations in mind. Try as I may, I couldn’t eliminate that high B. It sounds good, so I kept it. To expand the piece, I added an intro and a middle part, which allowed me to repeat sections and bring the tune about to exactly two minutes. There really wasn’t that much I could do for it. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve improved it. I’ve just made it longer and more unfocused. Well, that’s the risk I’m taking with all these pieces. But I’m happy to say that the remaining six pieces need fixing much more than this one.
This is the updated version of #5. The original is around 45 seconds long. Out of the first six pieces, this is the one that least required updating. Sure, it’s only 45 seconds, but it does a good job in expressing a complete musical thought in a short amount of time. OK, the trumpet goes into the stratosphere for a few notes; the highest being a B. This is because I wasn’t particularly attuned to practical aspects of any given instrument at the time. For me, this project was just a series of exercises that I thought that I would abandon after a few dozen attempts. Yeah, I was kind of wrong. So I turn back to #5 with more practical considerations in mind. Try as I may, I couldn’t eliminate that high B. It sounds good, so I kept it. To expand the piece, I added an intro and a middle part, which allowed me to repeat sections and bring the tune about to exactly two minutes. There really wasn’t that much I could do for it. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve improved it. I’ve just made it longer and more unfocused. Well, that’s the risk I’m taking with all these pieces. But I’m happy to say that the remaining six pieces need fixing much more than this one.
One Day Wonder #295
For 4 trombones and tuba.
Here’s the first in a series that I call “coasting to the finish line.” Honestly, I never thought that the project would get this far, so I began it with some pretty lax standards. In order not to make things seem too daunting, I originally intended to write only 300 short fanfares. I didn’t especially care how long they were or how they were structured or whatnot. All I wanted for them to do was to make a musical statement and end. That’s why many of the pieces before around #30 are so short. Actually, my attitude towards the fanfare-thing changed abruptly at #7 (after that, I wanted to write in all kinds of styles), but I still wanted to keep the pressure off until I proved to myself that I could write at least two minutes of quality music a day. That took a while longer, but eventually it became pretty clear that I could do that in all sorts of varieties. And then I was home free; I established some very rough guidelines (pieces should be at least two minutes long, express a coherent musical thought, and take on as many styles as possible) and hammered away for months upon months.
So this is a reworking of #6. I believe that I described the original as sounding like the theme music to a 1970s BBC version of King Lear. Yeah, that’s a good description. For this version, I had to scavenge what I could from where I could. There wasn’t a lot of source material, since it’s so short. I figured that an intro (with punctuation from the bass trombone) would be nice to set the mood. Following that, I’d lengthen the A theme, add a B theme, keep the C theme, because it rolls nicely back into the repeat of the A. Since that wasn’t quite enough to bring it up to two minutes, I tacked on a brief outro to mirror the beginning. I’d say that it works out OK, but I was definitely feeling a little claustrophobic. Scoring for four trombones and tuba doesn’t give you a lot of room to maneuver, since writing lots of high notes for your players will sound ridiculous, but lots of low notes will sound mushy. The A theme of the original #6 is very nice, but in order to extend it into a real melody, I had to do a few strange things that I’m not completely sold on, but I’m sure I’ll get used to. As for the B theme (which is just a variant on the A theme), I’m fine with that and the C theme is as-is from the original, only it’s repeated twice, which is fine, because it’s kind of cool. Overall, this is a good way to begin the coast to the line.
Here’s the first in a series that I call “coasting to the finish line.” Honestly, I never thought that the project would get this far, so I began it with some pretty lax standards. In order not to make things seem too daunting, I originally intended to write only 300 short fanfares. I didn’t especially care how long they were or how they were structured or whatnot. All I wanted for them to do was to make a musical statement and end. That’s why many of the pieces before around #30 are so short. Actually, my attitude towards the fanfare-thing changed abruptly at #7 (after that, I wanted to write in all kinds of styles), but I still wanted to keep the pressure off until I proved to myself that I could write at least two minutes of quality music a day. That took a while longer, but eventually it became pretty clear that I could do that in all sorts of varieties. And then I was home free; I established some very rough guidelines (pieces should be at least two minutes long, express a coherent musical thought, and take on as many styles as possible) and hammered away for months upon months.
So this is a reworking of #6. I believe that I described the original as sounding like the theme music to a 1970s BBC version of King Lear. Yeah, that’s a good description. For this version, I had to scavenge what I could from where I could. There wasn’t a lot of source material, since it’s so short. I figured that an intro (with punctuation from the bass trombone) would be nice to set the mood. Following that, I’d lengthen the A theme, add a B theme, keep the C theme, because it rolls nicely back into the repeat of the A. Since that wasn’t quite enough to bring it up to two minutes, I tacked on a brief outro to mirror the beginning. I’d say that it works out OK, but I was definitely feeling a little claustrophobic. Scoring for four trombones and tuba doesn’t give you a lot of room to maneuver, since writing lots of high notes for your players will sound ridiculous, but lots of low notes will sound mushy. The A theme of the original #6 is very nice, but in order to extend it into a real melody, I had to do a few strange things that I’m not completely sold on, but I’m sure I’ll get used to. As for the B theme (which is just a variant on the A theme), I’m fine with that and the C theme is as-is from the original, only it’s repeated twice, which is fine, because it’s kind of cool. Overall, this is a good way to begin the coast to the line.
One Day Wonder #294
For 4 horns, 4 trumpets and 4 trombones.
This will be the last of my original pieces, and even this one isn’t that original. I was so intrigued as to why #285 worked that I listened to it again and again trying to figure out what was happening where. I was a little disappointed that the climactic section wasn’t that climactic. For this piece, I wanted to lift that section and straighten it out to how it should be. How should it have been? Well, instead of being a component of the entire scheme, it stands out in an awkward way. It’s one of the pitfalls of writing minimalism; you have to walk the line between being too repetitive and dull and moving too fast, thus exposing the piece for its lack of melody. That latter thing is what happens in #285. Otherwise, I think the tune is tremendous – big-band minimalism with a good amount of punch. This version of it uses the same instrumentation, time signature (at least initially) and some deconstructed parts of #285. The biggest problem here was getting things started. I think that #285’s beginning is a lot stronger, but once the time changes from 6/8 to 9/8, the piece comes into its own. I’m especially fond of the smudgy horn parts. All of this is a prelude to the part that I wanted to fix. Instead of having the trumpet line descend in a sequence, I kept it pretty much in place, and I eliminated that weird shift to minor key. It was a little too jarring. Once that section plays itself out, I have everyone crescendo, briefly give the horn line to the trumpets and finish with another crescendo. And there you have it. Despite the somewhat weaker beginning, this piece is better than its predecessor. It sounds bigger and more refined. One way of approaching minimalism is to tell yourself that you’re building a machine that has to function in a certain way. This is a good analogy since minimalism sounds pretty mechanical. OK, so you’re building not just one machine, but several – ideally three: beginning, middle and end. These three machines have to have some kind of unity, but can’t be too similar, nor can they be too different. There’s the challenge. This piece responds well to it. As I’ve said before, I’m a little beyond liking or disliking these pieces, but if I was still in “like/dislike” territory, I would like this piece very much. From here on out, folks, I’ll be reworking the first six pieces of the project in reverse order. If I still understood the basic concept of fun, I would think that it would be fun.
This will be the last of my original pieces, and even this one isn’t that original. I was so intrigued as to why #285 worked that I listened to it again and again trying to figure out what was happening where. I was a little disappointed that the climactic section wasn’t that climactic. For this piece, I wanted to lift that section and straighten it out to how it should be. How should it have been? Well, instead of being a component of the entire scheme, it stands out in an awkward way. It’s one of the pitfalls of writing minimalism; you have to walk the line between being too repetitive and dull and moving too fast, thus exposing the piece for its lack of melody. That latter thing is what happens in #285. Otherwise, I think the tune is tremendous – big-band minimalism with a good amount of punch. This version of it uses the same instrumentation, time signature (at least initially) and some deconstructed parts of #285. The biggest problem here was getting things started. I think that #285’s beginning is a lot stronger, but once the time changes from 6/8 to 9/8, the piece comes into its own. I’m especially fond of the smudgy horn parts. All of this is a prelude to the part that I wanted to fix. Instead of having the trumpet line descend in a sequence, I kept it pretty much in place, and I eliminated that weird shift to minor key. It was a little too jarring. Once that section plays itself out, I have everyone crescendo, briefly give the horn line to the trumpets and finish with another crescendo. And there you have it. Despite the somewhat weaker beginning, this piece is better than its predecessor. It sounds bigger and more refined. One way of approaching minimalism is to tell yourself that you’re building a machine that has to function in a certain way. This is a good analogy since minimalism sounds pretty mechanical. OK, so you’re building not just one machine, but several – ideally three: beginning, middle and end. These three machines have to have some kind of unity, but can’t be too similar, nor can they be too different. There’s the challenge. This piece responds well to it. As I’ve said before, I’m a little beyond liking or disliking these pieces, but if I was still in “like/dislike” territory, I would like this piece very much. From here on out, folks, I’ll be reworking the first six pieces of the project in reverse order. If I still understood the basic concept of fun, I would think that it would be fun.
One Day Wonder #293
For 2 horns, 1 trumpet, 1 trombone and tuba.
Here’s a slick little jazz-thing with a nice concept behind it. See, the band is divided into two parts: 2nd horn/trombone/tuba and 1st horn/trumpet. Every section of the piece until the shout chorus repeats twice, only the first time through any given section is the first for one part or another. Confused yet? OK, in other words, what you hear initially in the 2nd horn/trombone/tuba playing their first section, then the 1st horn/trumpet come in eight bars later with their first time through the section. After those first 16 bars, the 2nd horn/trombone/tuba combo plays something else while the 1st horn/trumpet play the same thing they did over the previous eight bars. After they’ve played for 16 bars, they switch to something else while their counterparts repeat the previous eight bars. The whole thing is modular. Because I didn’t want them to spend all day in this building loop, I stuck in that little block-harmony shout chorus in there and reprised the beginning with the parts mostly switched. It works out nicely from a conceptual standpoint, but as with most of the jazz stuff I’ve written for this project, it barely qualifies as such because it doesn’t have any changes to speak up; only melodic lines that work to achieve their own goals. Maybe one the few exceptions is #178, my little requiem for a goldfish, and those changes are largely diatonic. Yeah, I guess my jazz skills have degenerated from non-use. Hey, I used to speak Russian like a champ, and nowadays I can barely understand Vladimir Putin. Oh well, such is the way of things.
Just so you know, I’ve devised an exit strategy for myself. Here it is: since this project didn’t really begin in earnest until wonderful #7, I am going to revamp the first six pieces (in reverse order) as my last six pieces. I’ll start with #6 for #295, #5 for #296 and so on until I reach #300, which still looks like it’s going to happen on March 6th. My goal is to expand these pieces until they’re all around two minutes apiece. Back when I started, I was just happy to get notes down on paper, so I paid no attention to duration. All of them are less than a minute long, with the shortest at just 26 seconds. So yes, I’ll have to do quite a bit of writing, but hopefully I’ve learned enough tricks along the way to write additional material that compliments the original stuff. If it doesn’t, then I apologize in advance.
Here’s a slick little jazz-thing with a nice concept behind it. See, the band is divided into two parts: 2nd horn/trombone/tuba and 1st horn/trumpet. Every section of the piece until the shout chorus repeats twice, only the first time through any given section is the first for one part or another. Confused yet? OK, in other words, what you hear initially in the 2nd horn/trombone/tuba playing their first section, then the 1st horn/trumpet come in eight bars later with their first time through the section. After those first 16 bars, the 2nd horn/trombone/tuba combo plays something else while the 1st horn/trumpet play the same thing they did over the previous eight bars. After they’ve played for 16 bars, they switch to something else while their counterparts repeat the previous eight bars. The whole thing is modular. Because I didn’t want them to spend all day in this building loop, I stuck in that little block-harmony shout chorus in there and reprised the beginning with the parts mostly switched. It works out nicely from a conceptual standpoint, but as with most of the jazz stuff I’ve written for this project, it barely qualifies as such because it doesn’t have any changes to speak up; only melodic lines that work to achieve their own goals. Maybe one the few exceptions is #178, my little requiem for a goldfish, and those changes are largely diatonic. Yeah, I guess my jazz skills have degenerated from non-use. Hey, I used to speak Russian like a champ, and nowadays I can barely understand Vladimir Putin. Oh well, such is the way of things.
Just so you know, I’ve devised an exit strategy for myself. Here it is: since this project didn’t really begin in earnest until wonderful #7, I am going to revamp the first six pieces (in reverse order) as my last six pieces. I’ll start with #6 for #295, #5 for #296 and so on until I reach #300, which still looks like it’s going to happen on March 6th. My goal is to expand these pieces until they’re all around two minutes apiece. Back when I started, I was just happy to get notes down on paper, so I paid no attention to duration. All of them are less than a minute long, with the shortest at just 26 seconds. So yes, I’ll have to do quite a bit of writing, but hopefully I’ve learned enough tricks along the way to write additional material that compliments the original stuff. If it doesn’t, then I apologize in advance.
One Day Wonder #292
For 3 horns, 4 trumpets, 3 trombones and tuba.
Well, I had such a good time writing #284 that I decided to do something similar. And by “similar,” I mean that it will unfold slowly and contain lots of held notes. I also wanted to use a slightly smaller ensemble. At first, I only had three trumpets, but once I found myself borrowing a trombone to thicken up the treble textures, I brought in a fourth. Instead of building from the low brass to the horns to the trumpets, it’s the trumpets that set the mood and the horns with the main voice. And yes, once again, the trombones and tuba are there for atmosphere, but their participation is much more limited. The piece works well, I guess. And that’s about all I can say about it. But I’ve noticed this: back when I began the project and I wanted to write something on the slow side, I’d write a brass chorale. In fact, the chorale was always my “safe house” in case whatever I was trying didn’t work out or if I was pressed for time and such. Starting at #102, my slow stuff started to acquire all this restless tension. I like to call that my “Liebestod phase,” even though those pieces don’t resemble Wagner in the least. I tried to recreate that magic several times. Later on, I managed to merge the two things into the oddball elegy in the #170s. Since then, there was no significant evolution until I beefed up the ensemble and started writing lots of whole notes – or dotted whole notes for this piece. So here we have the next step. Once again, I’m pretty surprised that I’m showing any kind a development, since I’m so thoroughly sick of this project, but there’s your proof. Yes, I’m sure that I’ll continue to evolve if I’m foolish or stupid enough to continue the project past 300, but it has to end sometime and that sometime might as well be 300 (which will actually feature 301 pieces, but who’s counting?). Otherwise, I’ll probably go completely nuts. I mean, I’ve stranded myself in ugly, crazy Belltown for most of the last year to get this done. Meanwhile, I’ve stopped playing the saxophone and let my apartment descend into squalor. It’s not that a lot of these pieces took a long time to write (most took less than four hours), but it was the drain of mental energy. Once I was done with any given piece, I was generally ready to do nothing else for the rest of the day, except maybe read or watch a movie or whatnot. When I started this project, I had visions of writing these pieces during the day and writing some very large work in the evening. That didn’t come to pass, but it would have been one hell of an achievement. So although I’ve been industrious, I’ve haven’t worked as hard as I’d wanted to. But funny thing, it didn’t really matter. If I’d worked harder or finished faster, I’d be right where I am today – in ugly, crazy Belltown, driving a 40-year-old car and wondering when things are going to get right. And that’s just what I’m doing now. But the good news is that I’m taking a road trip once I’m done. I’m thinking that the great, liberating day will be March 6th. After that, I’ll spend a week cleaning my apartment (I’ve been neglecting it for far more than a year), fly down to San Jose and hit the road, heading east. That’s the plan. So naturally, my head’s elsewhere, but I hope I can muster a few more good pieces before I hit 300.
Well, I had such a good time writing #284 that I decided to do something similar. And by “similar,” I mean that it will unfold slowly and contain lots of held notes. I also wanted to use a slightly smaller ensemble. At first, I only had three trumpets, but once I found myself borrowing a trombone to thicken up the treble textures, I brought in a fourth. Instead of building from the low brass to the horns to the trumpets, it’s the trumpets that set the mood and the horns with the main voice. And yes, once again, the trombones and tuba are there for atmosphere, but their participation is much more limited. The piece works well, I guess. And that’s about all I can say about it. But I’ve noticed this: back when I began the project and I wanted to write something on the slow side, I’d write a brass chorale. In fact, the chorale was always my “safe house” in case whatever I was trying didn’t work out or if I was pressed for time and such. Starting at #102, my slow stuff started to acquire all this restless tension. I like to call that my “Liebestod phase,” even though those pieces don’t resemble Wagner in the least. I tried to recreate that magic several times. Later on, I managed to merge the two things into the oddball elegy in the #170s. Since then, there was no significant evolution until I beefed up the ensemble and started writing lots of whole notes – or dotted whole notes for this piece. So here we have the next step. Once again, I’m pretty surprised that I’m showing any kind a development, since I’m so thoroughly sick of this project, but there’s your proof. Yes, I’m sure that I’ll continue to evolve if I’m foolish or stupid enough to continue the project past 300, but it has to end sometime and that sometime might as well be 300 (which will actually feature 301 pieces, but who’s counting?). Otherwise, I’ll probably go completely nuts. I mean, I’ve stranded myself in ugly, crazy Belltown for most of the last year to get this done. Meanwhile, I’ve stopped playing the saxophone and let my apartment descend into squalor. It’s not that a lot of these pieces took a long time to write (most took less than four hours), but it was the drain of mental energy. Once I was done with any given piece, I was generally ready to do nothing else for the rest of the day, except maybe read or watch a movie or whatnot. When I started this project, I had visions of writing these pieces during the day and writing some very large work in the evening. That didn’t come to pass, but it would have been one hell of an achievement. So although I’ve been industrious, I’ve haven’t worked as hard as I’d wanted to. But funny thing, it didn’t really matter. If I’d worked harder or finished faster, I’d be right where I am today – in ugly, crazy Belltown, driving a 40-year-old car and wondering when things are going to get right. And that’s just what I’m doing now. But the good news is that I’m taking a road trip once I’m done. I’m thinking that the great, liberating day will be March 6th. After that, I’ll spend a week cleaning my apartment (I’ve been neglecting it for far more than a year), fly down to San Jose and hit the road, heading east. That’s the plan. So naturally, my head’s elsewhere, but I hope I can muster a few more good pieces before I hit 300.
One Day Wonder #291
For 2 horns, 2 trumpets, 2 trombones and tuba.
Well, I was able to put aside all the bad thoughts that brought about #290, so I’m back to the age-old chase for something to write. In the past, I’ve tried to use divergent motion in a few pieces (most of them are pre-#100) and none of them worked out very well. This was basically because instruments that diverge will reach the top or bottom of their range fairly quickly. I didn’t know how to work with that factor. In addition, the further the instruments get from each other, the weaker the harmony is between them. All of those pre-#100 experiments became an exercise in damage control to a certain degree because of those and other variables. This piece wouldn’t be like those. And it’s not. Once the notes are high or low enough, they re-converge and I’m not working with a very strong harmonic scheme. I’m also not too adamant about having unique formal elements, so what you’re getting in intro-AABACDBA. There’s nothing particularly new about that framework. And this is what you get. It may sound like it could have been written 100 or 200 pieces ago, but I have to disagree. I never really figured out what went wrong with those other tunes, but straight from the beginning, I figured out how things would have to go in order for it to work. Do I like it? At this point, does it matter? OK, maybe I’m still under the cloud that generated #290, but if I can move past it. I’ve lived with uncertainty and doubt for so long now that they’re familiar companions. It’s just that some days (and weeks) they get the best of me. This might be one of them. In any case, I’ve decided to finish the project, come what may.
Well, I was able to put aside all the bad thoughts that brought about #290, so I’m back to the age-old chase for something to write. In the past, I’ve tried to use divergent motion in a few pieces (most of them are pre-#100) and none of them worked out very well. This was basically because instruments that diverge will reach the top or bottom of their range fairly quickly. I didn’t know how to work with that factor. In addition, the further the instruments get from each other, the weaker the harmony is between them. All of those pre-#100 experiments became an exercise in damage control to a certain degree because of those and other variables. This piece wouldn’t be like those. And it’s not. Once the notes are high or low enough, they re-converge and I’m not working with a very strong harmonic scheme. I’m also not too adamant about having unique formal elements, so what you’re getting in intro-AABACDBA. There’s nothing particularly new about that framework. And this is what you get. It may sound like it could have been written 100 or 200 pieces ago, but I have to disagree. I never really figured out what went wrong with those other tunes, but straight from the beginning, I figured out how things would have to go in order for it to work. Do I like it? At this point, does it matter? OK, maybe I’m still under the cloud that generated #290, but if I can move past it. I’ve lived with uncertainty and doubt for so long now that they’re familiar companions. It’s just that some days (and weeks) they get the best of me. This might be one of them. In any case, I’ve decided to finish the project, come what may.
One Day Wonder #290
For 3 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones and tuba.
Well, the last few days have gone very nicely. In fact, except for #286 and its ensuing crisis, the whole week has been just dandy. But despite that, I woke up in a terribly black mood. I don’t know whether it’s because I recently quit smoking or because of some genuine feelings of despair, but I was feeling like whole project has been a waste of time, because I have no tangible results to offer. The same was the case with Mackris v. O’Reilly. The lack of results continues to this day. Since mid-April 2007, I’ve written what will turn out to be between 12 and 13 hours of music in less than a year and I feel that it has been a profound failure. I mean, I never begin a project with failure in mind (who does??), but that’s how they all seem to end. That was pretty much my frame of mind at the time I started this piece. It all seemed so hopeless. Nobody reads this blog, not even my own girlfriend, so no wonder I feel like giving up. I decided to put my feelings into words, convert my words into Morse Code and use those rhythms in a piece. That’s just what I did. There is no tonal or harmonic system going on here; it only concerns itself with the rhythm. You’ll notice that every section (or instrument combination) has its “dot-and-dash” arrangement. This tune has no form; it just says what it has to say and ends. Yes, a lot of words overlap or are played slightly out of order, but they’re all in the piece. In case you’re interested, here’s the text: “I hate to say it, but I am totally sick of this project. Some of the results from it have been pleasant and surprising, but overall, it has been pure folly. I should stop now to avoid further embarrassment. Well, that would seem even more foolish. I will continue. Then it will be over and I will be free.” I know what you’re thinking: free to do what? My guess is that I’ll be free to go on to my next ambitious-yet-unsuccessful project. Anyhow, my mood improved as the day progressed, but I’m still pretty distressed with how things are at the moment.
Well, the last few days have gone very nicely. In fact, except for #286 and its ensuing crisis, the whole week has been just dandy. But despite that, I woke up in a terribly black mood. I don’t know whether it’s because I recently quit smoking or because of some genuine feelings of despair, but I was feeling like whole project has been a waste of time, because I have no tangible results to offer. The same was the case with Mackris v. O’Reilly. The lack of results continues to this day. Since mid-April 2007, I’ve written what will turn out to be between 12 and 13 hours of music in less than a year and I feel that it has been a profound failure. I mean, I never begin a project with failure in mind (who does??), but that’s how they all seem to end. That was pretty much my frame of mind at the time I started this piece. It all seemed so hopeless. Nobody reads this blog, not even my own girlfriend, so no wonder I feel like giving up. I decided to put my feelings into words, convert my words into Morse Code and use those rhythms in a piece. That’s just what I did. There is no tonal or harmonic system going on here; it only concerns itself with the rhythm. You’ll notice that every section (or instrument combination) has its “dot-and-dash” arrangement. This tune has no form; it just says what it has to say and ends. Yes, a lot of words overlap or are played slightly out of order, but they’re all in the piece. In case you’re interested, here’s the text: “I hate to say it, but I am totally sick of this project. Some of the results from it have been pleasant and surprising, but overall, it has been pure folly. I should stop now to avoid further embarrassment. Well, that would seem even more foolish. I will continue. Then it will be over and I will be free.” I know what you’re thinking: free to do what? My guess is that I’ll be free to go on to my next ambitious-yet-unsuccessful project. Anyhow, my mood improved as the day progressed, but I’m still pretty distressed with how things are at the moment.
One Day Wonder #289
For 1 horn, 1 trumpet, 1 trombone and tuba.
Now with the end approaching, I’m trying to think of things that I haven’t covered. Let’s see…marches, check; tangos, check; funk, check; serialism, check; unclassifiable blob-like forms, check. One small something that I haven’t quite gotten to is neo-renaissance stuff. Well, I did make two attempts way back pre-#100 and in the 180s (to the best of my recollection), but both ended up as salvage missions since I couldn’t figure out the mechanics with my limited time. Today I had a pretty good idea as to how it would work. I took a simple little triple-time rhythmic mode, based all harmony around it and wrote the piece. There’s nothing complicated about it at all; it’s just an AABA song form with an add-on toward the end. Hey, I think it works out pretty well. Keep in mind that I’m not striving for authenticity here. I just want to embrace the basic concept, play around with it for a while and be done. I still haven’t taken a close enough look at renaissance harmony to know all of its particulars (as you know by now, I really hate analysis), but at least I have a basic grasp of those weird pan-modal functions. OK, so here’s one less thing on my to-do list.
Now with the end approaching, I’m trying to think of things that I haven’t covered. Let’s see…marches, check; tangos, check; funk, check; serialism, check; unclassifiable blob-like forms, check. One small something that I haven’t quite gotten to is neo-renaissance stuff. Well, I did make two attempts way back pre-#100 and in the 180s (to the best of my recollection), but both ended up as salvage missions since I couldn’t figure out the mechanics with my limited time. Today I had a pretty good idea as to how it would work. I took a simple little triple-time rhythmic mode, based all harmony around it and wrote the piece. There’s nothing complicated about it at all; it’s just an AABA song form with an add-on toward the end. Hey, I think it works out pretty well. Keep in mind that I’m not striving for authenticity here. I just want to embrace the basic concept, play around with it for a while and be done. I still haven’t taken a close enough look at renaissance harmony to know all of its particulars (as you know by now, I really hate analysis), but at least I have a basic grasp of those weird pan-modal functions. OK, so here’s one less thing on my to-do list.
One Day Wonder #288
Gosh, it’s slightly hard to believe that I came so close to quitting this project just a few days ago. Back at the beginning, I discovered that the best way to shake the feeling of having written a bad piece was to write a march. That worked very nicely through the first hundred tunes, culminating with the wacky #99. Heck, what might possibly be the best piece of the whole shebang, #74, is a march. I only wrote that to distract myself from an unsuccessful attempt at a march from the previous day. But over the last, say 188 efforts, the march has kind of fallen by the wayside. The last one I wrote was #254, and that’s kind of a march-polka hybrid. I’ve set my marching aspirations aside mainly due to the struggle I’ve been having with form. I could very well have written things in ABACA (with corresponding intros, transitions and outros) form and not bothered to tinker with what works. I mean, marches and polkas work very nicely in that framework, but it’s more fun to monkey with things to see if your modified march still sounds like a march. A lot of times it doesn’t, and that’s why I’ve gotten away from it. This time, I’m not overly worried about form. I’m writing my 288th piece and the end is near. Why not write a peppy little thing in 6/8? I tell you, it’s been ages since a wrote a 6/8 march. I’ve only written two - #54 and #73. Trust me, #54 is the horse to bet on among those two. This one may actually be the grand champion of 6/8 marches. It manages to do a lot of things in a little time. It’s got drive, harmonic weirdness, formal weirdness and variety. I could explain every last detail of it, but it would probably be best for you to listen to it. That way, I have less of a chance of sounding like a moron.
In other news – and I’m sure you’re very interested in this – Belltown smells like burning plastic today. At least most of 2nd Avenue does. Yeah, it’s pretty unpleasant. A few weeks ago, it smelled like vinegar – the whole neighborhood. No idea why, it just did. Last summer, it smelled like hot dogs, day in, day out for weeks. That one is a little easier to explain, as Shorty’s (a pinball and hot dog place) is just down the block. It was hot, my windows were open – you get the idea. I’ll try to keep track of Belltown’s various smells for future entries. It might make the music a bit more vivid or my life seem either more or less pathetic, depending on the smell. But for the record, the usual “scent of Belltown” is a mixture of cigarettes, stale beer and craziness. Yes, craziness has an aroma all of its own when it’s as concentrated as it is around here.
In other news – and I’m sure you’re very interested in this – Belltown smells like burning plastic today. At least most of 2nd Avenue does. Yeah, it’s pretty unpleasant. A few weeks ago, it smelled like vinegar – the whole neighborhood. No idea why, it just did. Last summer, it smelled like hot dogs, day in, day out for weeks. That one is a little easier to explain, as Shorty’s (a pinball and hot dog place) is just down the block. It was hot, my windows were open – you get the idea. I’ll try to keep track of Belltown’s various smells for future entries. It might make the music a bit more vivid or my life seem either more or less pathetic, depending on the smell. But for the record, the usual “scent of Belltown” is a mixture of cigarettes, stale beer and craziness. Yes, craziness has an aroma all of its own when it’s as concentrated as it is around here.
One Day Wonder #287
For 1 trumpet.
I’ve learned that whenever there is a crisis of confidence, the best thing to do is go small. I’ve done it in the past and it’s worked out very well for me. Since I’ve written all kinds of stuff for trumpets within an ensemble and as a section alone, I figured that I should give a solo piece a shot. Here it is. I wanted to bring out both the “rapid fire” and lyrical capabilities of the instrument. I’ve always liked the trumpet, but it’s a tough instrument to sound good on. I know, I’ve played in lots of big bands and the trumpet section is almost always the worst. Sure, in reality, the trombones probably suck more, but you usually can’t hear them over all that bleating from the trumpet section. But my point here is that the trumpet is an amazingly flexible instrument that can sound incredible in the right hands. Maybe someday this piece will fall into those right hands.
Well, for the moment, the crisis is over. I’ve got plans for tomorrow’s piece and seem to be back on track, though the prospect of living through another creative blackout fills me with dread. Now with the end of the project so clearly in sight, I’m not very concerned with it.
I’ve learned that whenever there is a crisis of confidence, the best thing to do is go small. I’ve done it in the past and it’s worked out very well for me. Since I’ve written all kinds of stuff for trumpets within an ensemble and as a section alone, I figured that I should give a solo piece a shot. Here it is. I wanted to bring out both the “rapid fire” and lyrical capabilities of the instrument. I’ve always liked the trumpet, but it’s a tough instrument to sound good on. I know, I’ve played in lots of big bands and the trumpet section is almost always the worst. Sure, in reality, the trombones probably suck more, but you usually can’t hear them over all that bleating from the trumpet section. But my point here is that the trumpet is an amazingly flexible instrument that can sound incredible in the right hands. Maybe someday this piece will fall into those right hands.
Well, for the moment, the crisis is over. I’ve got plans for tomorrow’s piece and seem to be back on track, though the prospect of living through another creative blackout fills me with dread. Now with the end of the project so clearly in sight, I’m not very concerned with it.
One Day Wonder #286
For 2 horns, 2 trombones and tuba.
You know, if everything is going really well (and it has been), I’m just girding myself for the next run of rottenness. Maybe it’s my dour Ukrainian heritage. Bad stuff has been happening over there for centuries. Maybe it’s just my own personal experience or insecurity. I don’t know. But as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I could feel this coming on. By and large, the last few weeks have been tremendous. I’m writing things nowadays that would have been impossible for me to conjure just a month or two ago. It’s a really great feeling after you’ve finished a piece that you get an idea for about three more pieces. Not only that, but you know how everything’s going to work. All that needs to be done is to chase down a few notes and you’re done. That wasn’t the case today. I was running around all day. Usually, I’m able to figure out what I’m going to write at a quieter, more lucid moment. Something will just pop into my head; I’ll mull it over, build on it and pursue it when I get home. This didn’t happen. For the whole day, I couldn’t figure out what to do. Based on a lunchtime conversation, I decided to try to write some antiphonal (also known as “call and response”) stuff for mid-low brass. Usually that’s enough to get some music in my head, but it didn’t work. I had no idea what to do and no music playing in my head. I started the piece anyway and tried to work my way through this conundrum. That was only a partial success. I only got down 20 bars before I gave up for the day. Yeah, I’ve written 285 pieces before this one, and this is the first one I abandoned due to lack of ideas. I was close to panic. Was I finally out of ideas? That’s a real scary question, especially if you’re aspiring to make writing music into a profession as I am. If the well runs dry, then what? Never mind that my output has been very good for the last few weeks. Sure, I could have handled #281 better, but straightened it all out with #282. Overall, things have been great. But I really fretted about being blocked, because I don’t get blocked. I sit down and I write a piece nearly every day. Heck, I even wrote pieces on Christmas and New Year’s Day. I slept poorly that night. Usually ideas come to me in my sleep when I’m that agitated, but no. I got nothing from that bad night of sleep. So I worked through those 20 bars, turned them into a palindrome, added something else and then ended it. There’s no indication of what a struggle it was to write, and it’s probably better that way. I’m glad it’s done, though I’m not particularly happy with the results. The main reason is that this piece could have come from anywhere in the project. It doesn’t exhibit anything unique. It is a B-side at best. And it took two days to write! I’m hoping that I won’t have more days like these last two again.
Other than the silence going on in my brain, I actually managed to have an otherwise fine time in those awful two days. In fact, I managed to distract myself from my troubles quite often. Among the highlights, were getting in on a press preview for the Seattle Art Museum’s Roman art exhibit (it’s really impressive), seeing the lunar eclipse from the roof of my building in Belltown and playing some very decent poker. No, I didn’t win, but I was hitting straights for once. That’s always an encouraging sign of turning luck. And perhaps there is a certain degree of luck to creativity.
You know, if everything is going really well (and it has been), I’m just girding myself for the next run of rottenness. Maybe it’s my dour Ukrainian heritage. Bad stuff has been happening over there for centuries. Maybe it’s just my own personal experience or insecurity. I don’t know. But as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I could feel this coming on. By and large, the last few weeks have been tremendous. I’m writing things nowadays that would have been impossible for me to conjure just a month or two ago. It’s a really great feeling after you’ve finished a piece that you get an idea for about three more pieces. Not only that, but you know how everything’s going to work. All that needs to be done is to chase down a few notes and you’re done. That wasn’t the case today. I was running around all day. Usually, I’m able to figure out what I’m going to write at a quieter, more lucid moment. Something will just pop into my head; I’ll mull it over, build on it and pursue it when I get home. This didn’t happen. For the whole day, I couldn’t figure out what to do. Based on a lunchtime conversation, I decided to try to write some antiphonal (also known as “call and response”) stuff for mid-low brass. Usually that’s enough to get some music in my head, but it didn’t work. I had no idea what to do and no music playing in my head. I started the piece anyway and tried to work my way through this conundrum. That was only a partial success. I only got down 20 bars before I gave up for the day. Yeah, I’ve written 285 pieces before this one, and this is the first one I abandoned due to lack of ideas. I was close to panic. Was I finally out of ideas? That’s a real scary question, especially if you’re aspiring to make writing music into a profession as I am. If the well runs dry, then what? Never mind that my output has been very good for the last few weeks. Sure, I could have handled #281 better, but straightened it all out with #282. Overall, things have been great. But I really fretted about being blocked, because I don’t get blocked. I sit down and I write a piece nearly every day. Heck, I even wrote pieces on Christmas and New Year’s Day. I slept poorly that night. Usually ideas come to me in my sleep when I’m that agitated, but no. I got nothing from that bad night of sleep. So I worked through those 20 bars, turned them into a palindrome, added something else and then ended it. There’s no indication of what a struggle it was to write, and it’s probably better that way. I’m glad it’s done, though I’m not particularly happy with the results. The main reason is that this piece could have come from anywhere in the project. It doesn’t exhibit anything unique. It is a B-side at best. And it took two days to write! I’m hoping that I won’t have more days like these last two again.
Other than the silence going on in my brain, I actually managed to have an otherwise fine time in those awful two days. In fact, I managed to distract myself from my troubles quite often. Among the highlights, were getting in on a press preview for the Seattle Art Museum’s Roman art exhibit (it’s really impressive), seeing the lunar eclipse from the roof of my building in Belltown and playing some very decent poker. No, I didn’t win, but I was hitting straights for once. That’s always an encouraging sign of turning luck. And perhaps there is a certain degree of luck to creativity.
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